Gemma rolled her eyes, taking a sip of champagne. “Just talk to her, H. You’re acting like she’s got the plague.”

Of course my sister would encourage me to talk to you.

“It’s so awkward, how am I supposed to talk to her after everything that happened?” I asked her, sneaking a glance at you across the table, you haven’t even looked at me once, you were engrossed in conversation.

I knew you’d at this wedding, but that doesn’t make it any easier. You were friends with the bride and I’d been friends with groom—my childhood best friend Jonny—for as long as I could remember.

It was inevitable.

You and I were together for four years, at first our relationship was good—the epitome of perfect—but good things all come to an end, right? I was always busy with work, that led to us arguing a lot.

We didn’t spend enough time with each other and we became bitter and resentful towards each other because of that.

On an occasion where I was free, I ended up going to a club—just to clear my head—so I thought, I ended up dancing with a girl. Dancing led to me taking her to a hotel and not coming home to you that night.

I slept with her. I cheated on you.

When you eventually figured it out, you dropped a bomb. My jaw quite literally dropped when you told me you’d already cheated on me first. You said you felt lonely, and unwanted, which led to you sleeping with somebody else.

It was a weird situation. I was hurt and angry because you cheated on me. But I didn’t know how to navigate it because I’d cheated on you too.

That was a year ago now. I hadn’t seen you since the day we broke up.

I couldn’t help but glance at you across the table again, just as I looked over I saw as you spilled champagne over your bridesmaid dress, you looked furious. Niall nudged my arm. “Now’s your chance.” He said with a smirk. Prick.

I reluctantly stood from my chair, grabbing a napkin and walked over to your side of the table, your friends who were sat next to you raised their brows in surprise, knowing what happened between us.

Your frown deepened as I approached. Against my better judgement, I began dabbing at your dress with the napkin without even saying a ‘hello.’

You swatted my hand away, sneering as you spoke. “Fuck off, Harry.” You snatched the napkin from my hand, dabbing it on the champagne stains on your dress.

I shouldn’t have tried to help you without even speaking to you. We were all on really bad terms, after all. We literally cheated on each other. But did you have to be so rude?

“Don’t cause a scene, {{user}}.” I grumbled, rolling my eyes, and I could practically feel Gemma’s eyes on me, hoping I don’t mess this up.